Roll Over Beethoven
by Bauhaus 1919
Summary: At a highschool in Wisconsin, a group of friends decide to get together and make death metal - the two foreign kids, the white guy with dreads, the ugly kid, and that one guy who likes metal a bit too Dethklok highschool AU
1. Chapter 1

"Nathan!"

"A fifth of your grade will be dependent on quizzes - vocabulary, reading quizzes,"

"Nathan!"

"What?"

"Are we gonna recreate Dethklok this year?"

Nathan sighed, raising his eyebrows at Pickles. Last year, in ninth grade, he and a few friends had started a death metal band, called Dethklok. Nathan was on vocals - Skwisgaar Skwigelf, the Swedish manwhore kid on guitar, William Murderface - ugliest kid in the grade - on bass, and Pickles on drums. There was also a rhythm guitarist, Magnus Hammersmith - but over the summer he'd tried to attack Nathan with a pocketknife, and thus was in jail.

"Come on, we can just recruit one of the orchestra kids to replace Magnus!"

The teacher droned on about what class would be like, and Nathan blew a piece of hair out of his face. The orchestra kids weren't brutal - and Pickles knew it too. They couldn't just have some random schmuck in the band, they had to have somebody brutal and talented. "Hell no."

"Okay, what if we got Murderface to play the rhythm guitar parts?"

"Who would do bass?"

Pickles made an annoyed sound and pulled Nathan back by the shoulders. "I'm not gonna go back to my old band, the douchebags all moved. All of them. And I wanna make music, dammit."

"Fine, I'll try and find something out."

"You'd better, man."

Nathan rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair, looking around the room. Murderface was engrossed in drawing dicks on his syllabus - of course. Nathan wrote "Dethklok?" on a piece of paper, and threw it at Murderface, hitting him in the head. Murderface flipped him off - but nodded and grinned anyway. Dethklok was pretty much all he had, socially. He turned to Skwisgaar, on the other side of the room, and watched him take a dick pic with his phone, in the middle of class. Nathan didn't know what he'd expected, but waved his arms at Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar gave Nathan a Look, and Nathan mimed playing guitar with his hands. After a few seconds of quizzical staring, Skwisgaar shook his head.

Nathan was about to yell at Skwisgaar and ask him why the hell he wouldn't do Dethklok when he noticed a kid moving to the front of the room, looking uncomfortable as hell - but at the same time, brutal as a fucking snowstorm of fire, if that was even possible with the laws of physics. He reached back and pointed.

"I know, dude!"

The kid at the front of the room had long brown hair and noticeable muscles, and had some pretty heavy boots on.

"Anyway, this is T… ocky…"

"Toki."

"_Toki_ Wartooth." The teacher gave the kid, Toki, a dirty look for making her look bad, then turned back to the rest of the class. "He's here all the way from Norway - his family just moved here. So, please help him get his bearings this year…" The teacher's gaze was fixed on Skwisgaar, whose lip seemed to be curled more than humanly possible. Pickles was cracking up at this. "Skwigelf, you know what it's like being-"

"No I don'ts."

The teacher gave a deep sigh. "Just help him around and everything, okay? Great. Class dismissed."

As they left the classroom, Murderface, Nathan, and Pickles swarmed Skwisgaar, asking what the fuck he was leaving Dethklok for.

"I'ms in anothers band. Besides, wes still don'ts haves a rhythms guitarist."

"We can find one, douchebag!"

Murderface crossed his arms and glared at Skwisgaar. "What the hell other band would you be in?"

"Shark Fin Soup. It's a post-punks revivals band."

"That's not _brutal_, Skwisgaar," Nathan muttered. "But if you don't join, we are going to come to all of your concerts."

"I don'ts care."

Murderface grabbed the collar of Skwisgaar's shirt. "We're blackmailing you Schkwisgaar, you really have to play guitar for usch… or elsch!"

"God, fine! Dildos."

"Fuck yeah!" Nathan grabbed Skwisgaar and messed up his hair - successfully pissing him off. "Alright, we'll practice at Skwisgaar's place again - and we'll make flyers to find a rhythm guitarist."

"Hates you guys…"

* * *

So far, Toki was liking America much more than Norway. Maybe it was because they didn't live in the middle of fuck nowhere this time - the nearest city in Norway was miles away, and when he started going to a normal school, it took 2 hours to get there. Now it was just 20 minutes - which gave him more time for chores, homework, extracurriculars, learning English, church, and sleeping. He was already in advanced placement calculus - but the rest of the classes he was with everyone else. If only he spoke English better, he'd be in more advanced classes - and he'd been locked in the cellar for a week for failing that test. He couldn't fail anything else.

He scribbled down notes on the format of the class - Cornell notes, like he'd been taught in the study skill class he'd taken over the summer. He was pretty sure nothing about how many tests there'd be or how essays would be graded would be that important to review, but he had to have some kind of notes. It eased his mind.

In two classes (math and history) he'd had to introduce himself in front of the class, and in two more (english and german) the teacher had introduced him instead. In one (chemistry) the teacher had made a point of "not accepting any sloppy work, even if you happen to be foreign!". Orchestra was the one relaxing part of the day - Toki played the cello, and was pretty good at it. He could sink into the music, drawing the bow across the strings and drinking in the low harmonies. Art was more horrible than he'd expected - he was pretty creative, but the teacher wasn't. Then, he had his last class - health.

Toki set down his bag at a desk near the back - health was the one class he felt he could afford to not pay as much attention in - granted, not paying much attention to Toki was still listening to the teacher and trying to pick out which details would be on tests and quizzes. Apparently everyone else had the same idea of not paying any attention in health - the kid next to him had brought a fucking guitar.

The teacher started talking - sex ed would come later in the year, and it would be abstinence based - which disappointed Toki. He'd hoped to learn something about sex that wasn't from the intense dogma of his parents and their church, or internet porn. He laid his head on the desk, staring out the window, when he felt somebody tap him on the shoulder.

"You'ms the Norways kid, right?"

It was guitar guy, and Toki would've shuddered at the horrible English if he didn't speak it any better. He didn't respond - he didn't want to get in trouble for talking in class. He glanced at the guitar kid - tall, blonde, high cheekbones, slightly gay outfit - then looked back out the window. There was another tap on his shoulder.

"So my friends tells me to talks to you, because we ams both Scandinavian - racist dildos. We ams in a bands, but wes don'ts have a rhythms guitarist… You plays guitar?"

"A bit," Toki admitted. "We'ms in class."

He'd played guitar before - at their old church the one not horrible part was singing, and Toki played acoustic guitar for them. At the new church he hadn't offered to, yet. He was still better at cello - but he couldn't join a band. He just didn't have the time.

"Ams _health_. Anyway, I'ms lead, so you don'ts haves to be as good." Guitar kid grinned, and Toki watched his fingers - expertly fingering every note and pattern. "I'ms Skwisgaar Skwigelf, 555-3245. Texts me and I ams gives you Nathan's address, be theres after school, ja? I loans you guitar."

"I… I guess?" Toki raised an eyebrow. He didn't have anything to do, yet - he could say that he was spending time at the library, it wasn't as if his parents would be able to find out. "Uh, 555-8654." He watched Skwisgaar enter the number into his phone - Toki would never take his phone out in the middle of class. He'd never talk in the middle of class, either, but it was health, and Skwisgaar had forced himself upon Toki.

"Okay great, you haves his address."

Toki nodded, weakly. He wasn't sure what the hell he was getting himself into - it was strange and weird and _rebellious_, completely unlike him - but he already loved it.

Pickles and Nathan were the first to arrive at Nathan's place. Nathan unlocked the door and entered, throwing his bag on the floor. Pickles's bag joined it and he flopped onto the couch, tapping with the drumsticks he kept with him on the coffee table. "Dude, do you have anything to eat?"

"My mom made spaghetti last night," Nathan growled. Over the summer he'd started speaking in a death growl all the time. Pickles had never asked Nathan why - he probably thought it was Nathan's obsession with metal, going to a somewhat comedic extreme.

"Yeah, that works."

Nathan got up and walked into the kitchen, leaving Pickles. He could already smell the sauce, and his stomach growled - he'd had a huge lunch, but his adolescent stomach needed more than just a few sandwitches and a cookie, and the various snacks he'd had throughout the day. He sighed and pushed himself up, to see if the spaghetti was ready - and walked into Nathan, getting the red sauce all over the front of his shirt.

"Shit!"

"Ah, dude, sorry," Pickles said, grinning sheepishly. Nathan laughed with him.

"I'm gonna change."

"Good plan." Pickles figured he could heat up the spaghetti then wipe up the floor - he refilled the two bowls that had spilled and popped them in the microwave, then stepped over the mess on the floor and through the halls to Nathan's room. "Hey, is 5 minutes a good amount of time for the-"

He had walked in on Nathan shirtless.

"Nathan… why do you have _tits_?


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: i would like to thank ff net user 4pollos for giving criticism. i made an attempt to follow it and wrote more than normal and i'm happy with this hehe :)**

* * *

"Nathan, why do you have _tits_?"

Nathan and Pickles stared at each other for at least a full minute before Nathan crossed his arms, over his chest. Pickles tried to avert his eyes from Nathan's breasts, and failed. Finally, Nathan grabbed a tank top from the door and pulled it on. It flattened the breasts into passable pecs and Pickles looked up at Nathan's face - the Nathan he'd known for years was female. It explained the death growl thing, though - maybe it was to disguise his voice.

"I was born female, I'm a guy now. It's simple."

Pickles raised his eyebrows at watched Nathan move to pull on a tee shirt and lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Pickles sat down at the foot of the bed, and put his hands on his knees. "So, you're a girl. Or a girl-boy, or… what am I supposed to call you?"

"Nathan. I'm the same person, but now you know I have tits - how are things any different?"

"Right, things are the same, you're just… a he-she or whatever... I need a beer." Pickles got up and pushed his dreads out of his face, stumbling towards the kitchen. He slipped on the sauce on the floor but ignored it, opening up the fridge and grabbing one, two beers. He heard footsteps and turned around, looking at Nathan. "I'm sorry, I really don't think I know how to deal with this." He tossed the can of beer to Nathan and cracked open his own. "It's just too weird, yanno?"

"We've been friends since we were 9, Pickles, we're not gonna fucking change that because I have a vagina. You're being a dildo!" He opened the beer and it fizzed over his hand. Nathan licked it up and mopped up the floor with his sock.

"But obviously we're not friends enough for you not to tell me-"

"I didn't think you'd want to know!"

Pickles rolled his eyes and chugged the entire can of beer, slamming it on the counter. "Of course I'd want to know! I mean, considering we're best friends, and have been for six years."

"Then I'm sorry for not having a penis!" Nathan finished his beer and threw the can at Pickles, watching it bounce off of his forehead and onto the ground.

"I'm not gonna stop being friends with you just because you're a tranny, okay? But obviously you don't trust me or think that I respect you, and I'm not gonna be able to prove that - even though I can keep this secret, I've kept other secrets, so I don't see why this was such a huge deal for you to keep it a secret!"

"Well it's not like you're the most accepting of people," Nathan scoffed.

"Accepting?! I'm completely accepting, you mother-douchebag!"

The shouting match was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell.

"I'll clean up the sauce."

Nathan rolled his eyes and went to get the door. It was Murderface, with his bass slung over his shoulder and his arms crossed over his chest. "I heard schouting."

"It was nothing," Nathan growled, crossing his arms back at Murderface. Murderface pushed past Nathan and entered the house. "The dumbass dropped spaghetti everywhere, and I got pissed because it's our food." He shrugged, grinning nervously. How much had Murderface overheard?

"Hah, what a dumbasch." Murderface laughed loudly and nudged Pickles with his foot. "Are you Nathan'sch new maid? Can you get me a beer?" The joke seemed to amuse him greatly, but he opened the fridge and got a beer himself. "Nathan, your parentsch have pisch beer."

Murderface's reaction calmed Nathan down greatly. He could forget about accidentally outing himself to Pickles - at least for the next day or so. Later he'd have to explain it; answer all the stupid questions about his birth name and his breasts and his genitals and things that Nathan generally preferred to be private but became public domain once he stepped out of the mainstream, gender-wise. At least he could trust Pickles not to blab to anybody, since Murderface and Skwisgaar weren't as reliable, in Nathan's mind.

"We're not even supposed to drink their beer."

"Doeschn't count if it'sch pisch."

Pickles got up and threw the paper towels in the trash can, rolling his eyes at Murderface. "Do you know when the other guys are gonna be here?"

"Schkwischgaar'sch probably off schomewhere being a dick."

"What about the new kid?"

"Alscho being a dick."

However, as Murderface started to go on about why the two Scandinavian kids were dicks, the doorbell rang again. Nathan flung open the door, scowling - it was the two aforementioned Scandinavian kids, Skwisgaar and Toki. Toki looked incredibly lost, and Skwisgaar looked incredibly annoyed. He stormed in, and Toki followed - staring around the house with huge eyes.

"This ams the kid yous wanteds, right?" Skwisgaar asked, sitting on the table. Toki gave a small wave, pulling out a chair and sitting at it like a normal person.

"You the Norway kid?" Nathan asked, leaning over and inspecting the kid. He had to look intimidating - if the kid was too scared by Nathan, then he wasn't band material. It was simple logic. The muscles and hair. The only issue was the innocence, which could be fixed. There was a stupid cheerful expression on his face that wasn't exactly brutal, but Nathan knew that within Toki's heart, he was truly brutal.

"Yes?"

"Yeah, it's him. Do you play guitar?"

"I knows how…"

Nathan frowned at Toki, crossing his arms over his chest. "We are a death metal band. We're going to need somebody who's good at guitar."

"I onlys knows black metal…"

"Metal is metal." Nathan shrugged - he was afraid that the kid wouldn't know anything about any metal whatsoever, even though he was from Norway. "You'll probably get your shit together soon.

Anyway, I'm Nathan, this is Skiwsgaar, Murderface, and Pickles."

"Ams _huge _differences betweens deaths and blacks metal…" Skwisgaar scoffed, putting his forehead on the table.

"But I cans learns!" Toki offered, looking up into Nathan's eyes. It was kind of adorable, Nathan thought - then he realized that he was classifying something as _adorable _and shook away the thoughts in disgust. He leaned down, making eye contact.

"Yeah, and Skwisgaar can teach him-"

"I won'ts."

Skwisgaar stood up as he interrupted Pickles, and folded his arms over his chest. "Believes it or nots, I haves an actuals personality other thans being _foreign_," He said coldly.

"But you're the bescht at guitar-"

"I'ms not teachings him!"

Skwisgaar stormed out the front door. Toki didn't look angry, or even sad, like Nathan thought he would - instead he just looked resigned, like he had already accepted this would happen. While Nathan wanted to chase after Skwisgaar and beat the shit out of him for being a dick, he wanted to stay and comfort Toki at the same time. He shot a glance to Pickles, who was already moving towards the door, then to Murderface, then finally to Toki.

"I got thisch," Murderface said, sitting on the table over Toki. "I'm not that good with head casches. Toki scheems pretty schane." He grinned at Toki, who didn't grin back. Nathan stopped for a second, then went to follow Skwisgaar.

"Skwisgaar, what the hell was that about?!"

Pickles caught Skwisgaar by the tree outside Nathan's house and grabbed his forearm. Skwisgaar spun around, with an angry expression on his face that nearly scared Pickles - but he stared back at Skwisgaar until the other teen turned away, making a disdainful sound. Nathan came up beside Pickles as Skwisgaar sat down, leaning against the tree.

"Toki okay?"

"Yeah."

Pickles sat down next to Skwisgaar, and put his hand on Skwisgaar's shoulder. "What the hell did Toki ever do to you, man?" He asked, frowning.

"It's nothingks to do with _Toki_."

"Then… what is it?" Nathan asked.

"I don'ts like beingks _defined _by thingks I don'ts even control. I means, yous wouldn't knows - Nathan, you ams the metal kid, and Pickle ams the wasted kid, but I'ms the fuckingks Swedish kid or the tall kid - even though I haves thingks that I do, I coulds be the guitar kid or evens the fuckingk _manwhore _kid - _ugh_."

"But it's still a label, isn't it? I don't see how being labeled for something else would-"

"I don'ts gives a shit if I'ms labeled or not, as longks as it ams over somethingks I controls - which it nevers. Fuckingks. Ams."

Nathan rolled his eyes, and Pickles shot him a glare - this wasn't the time to be disdainful of somebody else's existential crises, even if they happened to be smaller. Pickles took a deep breath, and tentatively reached out to put his arm around Skwisgaar as if Skwisgaar would try and chop it off. Skwisgaar didn't react at all, merely tapping on the toes of his boots with his nails. Pickles sighed in relief.

"We only asked you because you're good at guitar, dude."

"And nows I looks like a dildo, because ofs that."

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, it really does. But Toki's…" He frowned, and Pickles could see that Nathan was racking his mind for the right word.

"Innocent?"

"Yeah, innocent. He's innocent. He's not gonna think that of you, probably." He shrugged and put his hand on Skwisgaar's shoulder. Skwisgaar narrowed his eyes at Nathan and pickles, and slowly pulled their hands off of his shoulders.

"Please don'ts to bes touchingks me."

Nathan stepped back about a foot, but Pickles didn't move. "Just go inside and apologise - hell, you probably don't even gotta apologise."

"Fine. I'lls does it."

"It'sch probably not perschonal."

Murderface nodded sagely and took a sip from his beer, still sagely. Altogether he would've looked quite sage, if he weren't speaking. Toki thought he looked somewhat sage, at least - but the ugly face and triangle haircut took away from the sageness of William Murderface. He shook his head and pushed the lock of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes away from his head and bit his lip.

"People don'ts like me. I ams useds to it."

Toki shrugged and smiled at Murderface in an attempt to make him less freaked out. Evidently it didn't work - Murderface looked even more weirded out. Toki watched Murderface sigh and slowly shake his head, and it made Toki feel like shit. Not even his parents liked him or thought of him as normal - and already he was alienating people, just like his mother said he would. "I ams really sorrys…"

"Why wouldn't people like you, though? I mean, you're nische enough, and you've got that ripped body and schexy accent…"

"I ams wei… _sexy_?"

Toki felt very much flattered, but he stared back at Murderface like he had grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead nonetheless. He laughed softly and brought his knees up to his chest. Sexy wasn't a word often used to describe him - that task was typically reserved for words like annoying, idiotic, childish, worthless, clingy… on good days, plain. His parents hadn't liked him because he was weak and unholy, other kids didn't like him because he was stupid and immature.

And now somebody was complimenting him and _seemed _to like him and Toki had no idea what he was supposed to do. Just accept it? Correct Murderface, because he was clearly wrong? He bit his lip and tried to find something in Murderface's voice that indicated he was joking.

"That wasch gay, waschn't it. Fuck."

"No… Just… if I'ms not unlikeds ors… why ams Skwisgaar angry?"

"Schkwischgaar'sch juscht a dick. Honeschtly, it'sch hisch mommy issuesch." Murderface gave a shrug, as if the mommy issues explained everything. Toki had no idea what mommy issues were, and didn't want to ask. He put his head on the table and looked away from Murderface. Skwisgaar hadn't been a dick earlier - he'd been nice.

"Ams yous sure?"

"Of coursche." Murderface opened his arms and pulled Toki in for a hug. Toki didn't move, and Murderface leaned in and pulled Toki over, awkwardly patting the other kid on the back. Toki didn't react, and felt extremely uncomfortable without knowing how to express it. After what felt like an eternity, however, Murderface let go and rolled his chair back. Toki took a deep breath, feeling deeply relieved that he wasn't in Murderface's grip anymore.

"Why wouldn't people like you, though?"

"Because. I ams immature, I ams stupid, I ams lazy and wrong and easies to hates. My moms and dads say I ams unholy, toos."

"Je-sus, your parentsch schaid that? That'sch rough. My dad killed my mom and himschelf when I wasch a baby, though. I don't really know what it'sch actually like to have actual parentsch…" Murderface looked almost wistful.

"I ams so sorries!"

"Not your fault."

Toki still felt disturbed and terrible for Murderface. Even if Toki's parents hated their kid, Toki still loved them and cared about them, and didn't know what he would do if he didn't have them around. He'd often thought about them dying horrible deaths, after some insane punishment for some tiny fuck up, but when he wasn't angry at them, the thought of them dead terrified him. He had nobody else to live with - his parents had deserted both of their families. He would be an orphan if his parents died, and that was even more scary than insane, religious, and slightly violent parents.

He took a deep breath and looked down. "I supposes, compares to yous, my problems ams not that big…"

"I wasch a baby. I don't even _remember _what my parentsch were like. I live with my grandparentsch, and they're douchebagsch, but they don't hate me." Murderface looked even more shocked.

"Buts, I thinks I ams deserves it, ja?"

"Hell no!"

Murderface grabbed Toki by the shoulders, and Toki blinked and pushed his chair backwards. He didn't like being grabbed and touched like this - he wasn't used to it, and he was fairly certain he never would get used to it. But Murderface wouldn't let go, and Toki tilted his head, mouthing the word 'why'.

"Lischten, man. I don't really know you, but I schtill don't think you descherved any of that shit." He let go and crossed his arms, and Toki took a deep breath.

"If yous _says _so," He muttered.

At that moment, the door opened loudly and Skwisgaar stormed into the room, standing over Toki. Toki looked up into Skwisgaar's crotch, confused and scared by this tall man in tight pants who… Toki tried to read his body language. Was Skwisgaar angry? Was he requesting a blowjob? Was he…

"Alright, dildo - I ams goingks to be teachingks yous!"


End file.
